Tonight in Music: DJ Dance Party at Holocene, Tennis, Forgetters, Interpol, and more

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Dance, mothereffer, dance! Join Holocene and a passel of great DJs (I'm no mathemagician, but there are 8.5 of them to be exact) for this second iteration of the all-star DJ dance party. Wear your glad rags, 'cause tonight you're going to dance 'til you can't dance no more. COURTNEY FERGUSON

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) I can distinctly remember the first time I heard Interpol. There was no outcry of Joy Division plagiarism (sorry, dudes, aside from the voice, I'm still not hearing it), no visual component to the band (the suits, the hair, DUDES, WHY THE HAIR?), just the bold, alluring cover of Turn on the Bright Lights and the hypnotic spin of "Untitled" and me at a listening station in the otherwise lifeless University District Cellophane Square (R.I.P.) in Seattle. Musically, it's still a great album, even if it's marred by subsequent revelations of the band's other-than-musical missteps, including what The Stranger's Michaelangelo Matos rightly noted as "the worst lyrics in rock music." Live, Interpol are competent if a little lackluster—or at least they were before Carlos Dengler left. Proceed at your own risk. GRANT BRISSEY

(Mississippi Pizza Pub, 3552 N Mississippi) Local singer/songwriter Dan Lurie went to Ohio University—not THE Ohio State University—in the late '90s, but it's only now that he returns to the Athens, Ohio, campus on Spirit of '98. A sparse bedroom recording of songs influenced by his college days, Spirit is hardly an Animal House ode to partying down—although booze is plentiful, most obviously on "Carlo Rossi," his salute to wine that gushes from a jug—nor is it an introspective look at lessons learned from wise leather-elbow-patched professors amid the fallen leaves of a sprawling campus. Instead Spirit is a very pleasant recording of sweet nostalgia, handholding romances, and the fleeting nature of youth, all capped by the remorseful voice of Lurie. Such sweet collegiate sentimentality makes me regret getting my degree in VCR repair through the mail. You lied to me, Sally Struthers. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

PURPLE RHINESTONE EAGLE, EMERALDSS, THE GUILD

(The Saratoga, 6910 N Interstate) There are few bands that command our affection like Purple Rhinestone Eagle, the trio of ladies responsible for the finest sludgy-sweet space-rock this town has to offer. Last year's full-length, The Great Return, is a bongward-gazing journey into the mind's inner eye, complete with fuzzed-out guitar, earthquake bass, and wrecking-ball drums, all hounded on by Andrea Genevieve's northern-wind wail. Seattle riffsters Emeraldss (the extra "s" is for "stoned out of your gourd") are cut from the same majestic cloth, with bold, brazen rock that's both oppressive and inspiring at the same time. Expect to have both eardrums rattled out of your skull by night's end. NED LANNAMANN

(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) The stew of influences making up Brownish Black has a curious chemistry to it. Theirs is a ragged mix of old-school R&B soul and garage rock I didn't even know I was missing until I first heard them and realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard a good band in the tradition of Them or the Animals. It's sweaty and loose enough to be dynamic but formal enough that the chorus always follows the verse. It's a genuinely exciting thing to hear M.D. Sharbatz wrap his yelping, yearning voice around Vicki Porter's solid harmonies and belt like the '70s never happened. DAVE BOW

DR. DEMENTO

(Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) I know it sounds dorky as all hell, but the Dr. Demento Reed College lectures are an absolute blast. The maestro of wacky music, Dr. Demento (Barry Hansen) is a Reed alum, and his four-night stand focuses on various musical subgenres—from country music to songs about drugs—including tonight's punk-themed show. Music nerds, and just nerds in general: The doctor will see you now. EZRA ACE CARAEFF